The fire was hot, burning even, so the family inside their home was screaming in agony. How did this happen? Did they leave the stove on? Did their sons get into something they weren't supposed to? No, someone caused it…. but who? Who would be able to set a family's only home to ruin? A psychopath, maybe? The mother screamed in pain as her skin began to blister and boil down her hands and arms as she stumbled out of the home. Her husband was next to her, coughing and gasping with every breath.
But their sons, they're still in there - the mother frantically thought to herself, as tears began to flow down her ashy cheeks, her blonde hair singed at the ends, and her blue eyes wide.
"NO!!" She struggled out of her husband's grip, who was holding her tightly, restraining her from running back into the house, as the main door creaked about to collapse. "John! Let me go!" She struggled.
"Mary." He held her shoulders tightly, his hazel eyes and shaggy brown hair bored into hers, he had already made up his mind. And was aware that their child was still in there. "We…I..can't lose you too." He finished, voice shaking, and breath catching.
His wife sobbed into his arms, digging her face into his chest and breathing heavily. His eyes looked back into the fire, hoping and preying their assumption was too early. Living in the middle of nowhere meant the paramedics and help would take about ten minutes, or longer. The couple held their breath, and they waited silently, as the whooping sound of the firefighters and emergency services closed into range.
"Help! Please! He--" A young boy coughed violently, and his vision began to get foggy. Leaning on the one patch of wall that wasn't burning, it was challenging to get a few feet without the heel of his foot burning. Stumbling and tripping on the falling debris as he quickly made his way out of the house. The boy's figure was small but had a little more size due to his clothing. His hair was blackened from the smoke, his jacket singed and had forming holes from the falling ash. And as he lifted his face out of his elbow, Mary saw her son's green eyes.
"Dean!" She yelled out, and ran over, grabbing and lifting him up quickly, not letting go. She forced her hand over her son's head, and pressed him against her chest, over her shoulder where his tired eyes met his father.
He smiled, weakly. "Hey...Dad.." his eyes slowly closing, John took him out of Mary's arms and waved over to the oncoming trucks.
"Over here! We're over here!" He yelled, only for the sound of their main beams cracking to make anything hard to hear. The violent cracks sent a wave of panic and sorrow down Mary and John's spines. She knew that if she ran in to get her other son, she'd be dead too. But why was she so hesitant? It's her son goddamnit! She was a hunter! Running into dangerous situations and dying was a normal Tuesday for her!
John could take care of Dean and Sam, right? Right?
"John, look after Dean," Mary ordered, and took off into the house, the front door dropping in front of her path. Taking a few steps back to ready herself, she jumped over and bounced off the wooden frame, landing in the smoke-filled living room."Sam! Where are you?" She yelled out, hoping to hear the five-month-old infant's cries. She continued to bolt around the house, as her grandmother china set crashed to the ground. Ears ringing for the continuous shattering of plates, and the crashes of the home support beams, she came to the sudden realization. She was pinned. While she was busy traversing into the burning home to find any sign of Sam, she forgot to clear away the only possible exit. And it was already collapsed in on itself. Was this where she was going to die? She thought to herself, and her thought began to spin wildly - She was a goddamn hunter. And she was going to save her son, no matter what the cost, Sammy needed to live.
The infant cried loudly, as a shadowy figure with yellow eyes loomed over the child's crib with a demonic smirk on its face.
"Ahhh, you have done it again Azazel." The demon praised himself, giving himself a momentary pat on the back before being interrupted by the sound of a distressed mother's yelling.
"Sammy?" She yelled, and to her relief, the sound of the infant's cries sounded Mary's motherly alarm, and as any Winchester would, she kicked down the door right off its melting hinges. God, it was hotter than hell in there, she felt her sweat turn cold as the shadowy figure that was hovering over the crip, and its head cocked to her gaze immediately.
"Demon!" She quickly grabbed her Colt, loading it and raising it back up in mere seconds, only for the shadowy figure to be long gone. "Damn it." She cursed under her breath, her finger hovering over the safety, but her mind quickly snapped out of her adrenaline rush from another echoing cry of her child.
"Sam!" She ran over, grabbed him from the crib, and quickly ran out of the room, and down the stairs but there was one fatal problem with that plan. Well shit - she thought to herself, as the front door was now covered by the snapped attic beam that went through the floor to the roof, and she frantically looked around for any other exits. Think quick, think like a goddamn hunter! - She pressed herself, taking a second to think that wasn't in her favor at the moment until the worried sound of John's voice made her gasp and her attention refocused.